


Miss You

by AliciasClarke (fyeahgila)



Category: The Rolling Stones
Genre: 1970s, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Inspired by Real Events, Introspection, Light Angst, Loneliness, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-23 17:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20012305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyeahgila/pseuds/AliciasClarke
Summary: Keith has been busted with heroin and is in jail while the rest of the Stones need to continue their tour. With Keith's and the band's future uncertain, Mick has trouble getting sleep because some long buried feelings resurface again. Miss You is being written...





	Miss You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,  
> as promised, here's my next work, a oneshot this time. It's inspired by real events (as mentioned in the end notes), but the rest obviously is just my imagination, as always.  
> It's somewhat angsty but I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> p.s. I hinted on having yet another story up my sleeves (well actually I have a draft with like 10 more story ideas saved xD) but idk whether I'll actually get to work on that one next (it would be that 80s AU where Keith has a nephew who comes out as gay...) anyway I don't know whether I'm currently in the mindset to write this and whether I might rather start working on another one of these ideas, which would be by far darker and sadder and just really tragic and dramatic (but I might need to write that due to personal circumstances because of something really sad and tragic happening in my life atm and I might need that story to cope...but let's see)

March 1977 

No matter how often Mick tossed and turned around in the way too hard hotel bed, he just couldn't find the proper position to fall asleep. He'd sent away that groupie whom he picked up at the hotel bar hours ago, after a quick shag that left her looking disappointed and him feeling empty and annoyed. In addition to that, his mind kept racing, it wouldn't shut down easily, not allowing him some well needed rest. There was one thought drowning out everything else, not giving him peace because of everything which was at stake here. 

Keith was in jail. Keith was in jail in Canada because he'd been busted and found in possession of heroin while staying at a hotel in Toronto. Now he was being held up there until a court date where he would be accused of possessing heroin for the purpose of trafficking. At least that's what their lawyer had explained to them after he talked to Keith and the authorities. Meanwhile, the rest of the band had to continue their tour, by now they were playing their shows in the US. They just kept touring and playing as if nothing had happened. As if Keith wasn't thousands of miles away, locked up and facing a trial with the possibility of years in prison, a life sentence even, because that's what was expected of them. They couldn't just call off the whole tour because Keith was one hell of a bloody idiot. 

Some media outlets kept shouting that this was the end of the Stones, but none of them dared to believe it. They rather all chose to trust in their lawyer, who'd helped them out in this matter before, who'd bailed Keith and Ronnie out just two years back when they'd been arrested with drugs in their car. When asked about the fate or the future of the band during interviews these days, Mick either didn't comment at all, made some jokes about playing gigs in prison, or he said that he believed things would be taken care of and everything would be alright in the end. By now he'd told the latter almost mantra-like leading him to nearly believe it himself. Yet, they all were still having their doubts, since they couldn't really imagine how Keith would pull out of that one, even though they all were hoping for the best. 

When not faced by some TV camera or an overly-eager journalist, in the rare moments he had alone to himself, however, he wasn't this persuaded. He actually was scared and angry. He was incredibly pissed at Keith for being this reckless. This seemingly was the umpteempth time he had been caught, it certainly wasn't the first time he'd been locked up in jail for a while. But this time, it actually didn't look too good at all, compared to a decade ago, where they both had been set free after just one day in actual prison. And he was afraid that this time it wouldn't end too well. That it actually could mean the end of the band. They could play a couple shows without Keith. They could finish this tour without him, maybe even play another one without him. But they couldn't manage to go on without him like they were used to, produce a new record without him. Mick couldn't. He needed him by his side, as his friend, his song writing partner, his better, or worse, half. He didn't want to have to imagine even for a moment what it would be like if Keith was sentenced to go to prison. If he could only visit him every other month or so, the only way to talk to him closely observed by guards. 

They'd all done their fair share of fucked up bullshit, even Charlie hadn't been able to resist. Mick didn't care about taking drugs sometimes, helping him make a great time become a dozen times better, as long as he felt that he still had things under control in some way and could pull himself back together again. But Keith was a whole different matter. He'd tried getting clean before, after Nellcôte, had been to rehab even. But eventually, he'd just been pulled right back into all the trouble once more. Mick had tried talking to him more than just once, about tuning it down, about thinking of his kids, about the band. Obviously, Keith didn't want to hear any of it. He'd always been a stubborn bastard who didn't let anyone get in between himself and one of his believes. When he was completely persuaded by something, it was hard convincing him otherwise. And when it came to drugs even more so. It was tough trying to convince a junkie that he had a problem and needed help, it was tougher even reasoning with Keith about his addiction. Mick just couldn't get through to him so far, no matter what he tried. The sole person Keith probably would have listened to was Anita, but the problem with her was that she couldn't stop taking drugs herself and actually had been discovered at the airport, just mere days before Keith was busted, carrying some pot. 

No matter how mad he was at Keith for not finally getting a grip on himself and risking the existence of the band, he was even madder at Anita. For not trying to get clean herself and potentially compromising Keith's prior attempts to finally turn his back on hard drugs. It was incredibly frustrating to just be standing there, not really able to get through to any of them. Watching how Keith got sucked deeper and deeper into the abyss. Watching how his best friend risked it all, his health, his life, his family, his career. 

There was even less Mick could do now that Keith was awaiting his court hearing, locked up in some Canadian jail, while he was in Atlanta with the other lads, where they'd be playing a show the next night. It would be the third one in a row without Keith and even though he went around telling journalists that it was alright like that, that nobody in the band was irreplaceable, deep down it wasn't how he felt about this. There was something missing without Keith there, when he wasn't to his left on the stage, when it wasn't him who played all the riffs he had written, but Ronnie instead. Charlie was their beat, but Keith was their rhythm and without him, something was missing from the way they usually played, they usually sounded. 

During some press conference the other day, a journalist had wanted to know whether they'd be looking for a new guitar player who could replace Keith. Mick had calmly answered that Ronnie and him would be playing guitar for the upcoming shows and that they'd wait for Keith's trial. Only then they could see if it might be necessary to look around for another guitar player. He didn't want to think of a replacement, even despite the fact that he believed Keith could be replaced on stage. There were other guitarists around, like Mick Taylor, who had an incredible talent and was an even better player than Keith. But in any other way Keith was irreplaceable. 

Mick couldn't imagine writing a whole new album without him, not having him there when recording the songs, not getting his input, his creativity, and his wit. Keith was ingenious when it came to writing music, there was a reason after all that he'd come up with the riff for Satisfaction while asleep. Even though they didn't always agree on how things should be done, Keith's influence and experience was invaluable. And even though Mick sometimes got really annoyed with him, secretly he believed that if it wasn't for their constant back and forth, some of the songs they'd written together wouldn't be as brilliant as they were. They were opposites, two sides of the same coin, they were like night and day, like fire and rain, but sometimes, when composing a new song, it was like they were thinking with a shared mind. If Mick believed in things like these, he'd even say they were kindred spirits. There was no way he could write an album for the Stones without him. Maybe he could, but he wasn't at all eager to do so and he didn't think it would end up any good. Of course there were songs on their previous records that were pretty much all Keith's, or all his or had some input from Ronnie or Brian or Bill, but nevertheless they'd always worked together while creating new albums, since the very beginning. 

Lying in his way too uncomfortable hotel bed, the neon digits of the alarm telling him it was 3:47am, Mick fondly remembered these times in the early stages of their career, when their manager actually forced them to finally write their first original song together. And sometimes, just like right at this moment, he wished that things could be like they used to back then. When they were living at Edith Grove with Brian, just some boys wanting to play music. Before things had gotten more complicated and fucked up, before all the hard drugs. There was a lot about these times that he didn't miss, touring around and sleeping in a minivan, not having enough money for food and the heater, having to flee the stage after twenty minutes into a set because their fans went absolutely bonkers. But he missed how light and uncomplicated things were back then between himself and Keith, before making each other jealous over girls, before getting into fights over drugs. 

He missed Keith. Not because he was over a thousand miles away in jail, he missed the person Keith used to be without all the drugs. Because the Keith he got to hang out with these days was barely recognisable. And not just because the heavy drug consume was starting to take a toll on his health and appearance. It also made him get impossibly moody. Sometimes he was all cranky, ready to get into a fight the moment you looked at him the wrong way. Other times he was so out of it, that it wasn't even worth bothering to try talking to him, the best would be to let him lie around on some couch, sleeping it off. Mick just wanted to have his friend back, how he used to be when not under the influence of some crazy shit. 

Eventually, he gave up on trying to get a good night's rest and turned the bedside light on. After another look at the alarm, which announced to him in bright green digits that it was 4:12am, he gulped some water down straight out of a bottle. Then he grabbed his notebook and a pen, just toying around with some words. All the while he still couldn't get Keith off of his mind, and neither this longing out of his chest. 

He'd never dare to admit to anyone, least of all Keith, how he truly felt about him. He didn't indulge in these feelings too much anymore, hadn't in an eternity. Because they always brought him down, reminded him of how things were and how they never would be because of who they were. He'd always felt so much tenderness for Keith, tried to understand him even when everybody else had long given up on it, still had wanted to be there for him, even when he kept pushing him away. 

It was hard to pinpoint when exactly his feelings for Keith had changed, or if he had always loved him like that and just didn't realise it at first. There had been times where he wanted to be with him so badly that it physically hurt and he couldn't breathe properly, knowing that Keith was right there next to him, but he could never have him as something more than a friend. Because of all the consequences. He feared that Keith wouldn't understand, that he'd laugh at him, thinking he was just fooling around. He couldn't risk Keith despising him, losing him as his friend, risking the band over his sentiments, let alone the press ever catching wind about any of this. There simply was too much to lose, the stakes were unbreachably high. 

That's why he just held it in, kept it his most guarded secret, never told Keith a word about it. He'd silently suffered and sucked it up countless nights and days, trying to tune out the longing and the heartache with booze and drugs and girls. A lot of the time it worked just fine, at least he didn't remember then. That he was in love with his best friend, the person who probably knew him better than anyone else, and had been for a long while. That sometimes he felt like he'd never love anybody else the way he loved Keith, no matter how hard he tried. That Keith was the one person he wanted the most, but seemingly the sole person he could have the least. He'd probably spent years pining for him, watching him walk off with some birds, while for Mick there was nothing left to do but finding himself some girls as well. 

With the years that passed, all the things that happened to them and around them, the longing had faded into the background. Sometimes he was convinced it was gone, or at least buried deep inside of him. There weren't many times he'd let it out again, allowing it to engulf him, swallowing him up, making him hurt all over. But this night, alone in this grand but stale hotel room, was one of these times that he couldn't keep it at bay. He missed him so badly that his heart actually started aching and he had to put his notebook down in order to take some sips of water, as if it could help dulling the pain. Maybe the alcohol in his hotel fridge could, but he didn't want to wake up hungover. If he ever should fall asleep. Instead of looking into the fridge for some harder liquor, he grabbed his notebook again, looking at what he'd mindlessly scribbled down. 'I miss you' it said, over and over again in his own handwriting. 

At first he angrily wanted to tear the page out, or cross the words out, as if it would help him not longing for Keith anymore. He didn't even remember when he'd last indulged in these thoughts and feelings. Now, with Keith awaiting his trial, obviously, everything had to come up again. No matter how convincingly he told the press that it wouldn't be a big deal without Keith, that as a band they could go on even with him in jail, he knew that it would be a bloody huge deal. Maybe they actually could manage as a band, playing without him for some time. But Mick couldn't handle it without him. They'd been in this together since the very beginning. Since that fateful encounter on the train. Charlie and Bill had tried to convince him during the past few days that all the Stones needed to keep rolling was their singer, because there was nobody else like Mick. But even if he tried to believe them, Mick needed Keith, too, to keep going. Because for him, there was nobody else like Keith. 

While he was thinking about all of this, trying to keep his feelings at bay and to not let them choke him, words and phrases were flooding into his mind. He wasn't able to stop this sudden influx and eventually, he started noting some more things down, adding to the three words he'd repeated a dozen times. Once he had begun, there was no returning, no holding back. Like this, he was writing out his heartache in single words and lines, forgetting how late it was and how tired he felt, while he kept arranging and rearranging his words. It helped calming down his mind, like writing always did. While trying to put together a construct of lines that actually made sense and sounded well enough, his sole focus lay in creating something new, new lyrics, probably a new song. 

Even though he wasn't sure whether he would actually want to publish this at all. He poured way too much of his heart into it. All the held back feelings, things he'd wanted to do or say to Keith for years. There was no way he could ever tell him that he'd dreamed of him countless of times, or how badly he wanted to kiss him, or that he loved him like no one else. Saying it like this in a song, was a way to get it off his chest. Nobody needed to read this, probably he'd just tear it up later and throw it into the bin. And if he didn't and it would actually end up being a new song, nobody would ever know whom it truly was about. He could already hear the journalists' questions about which girl had inspired him to write these words. They'd speculate whether it was Marianne, or Chrissie, or Bianca. But they'd never know it actually was Keith. Nobody ever would learn, least of all Keith himself. 

Eventually, he wrote two versions of the same song. One that after all might very well end up being recorded one day. Because it didn't give away too much. It could be about anybody. Any girlfriend, any lover, a random stranger he encountered once and ended up fancying more than intended. The other version, the one he'd never show to anybody, the one he intended to throw away, was much more telling. It wasn't as much of a song but rather a love poem, he figured. And while it had been almost therapeutic writing all of this down, finally getting it out of his system, these lines made his cheeks flush in embarrassment. It was an incredibly sappy confession of his love, of how he wished things could be, or could have been. If they weren't the singer and the guitar player of the greatest rock'n'roll band in the world, but just Mick and Keith. And if this wasn't just a one sided story, but if Keith actually requited his feelings. 

He wished so badly that he could finally stop feeling like this. Because he knew that it wasn't right, that he shouldn't feel that way about him and that Keith never would feel the same. Even though he was clearly aware of all of that, and no matter how much he tried convincing himself that he had to accept how things were and that they wouldn't change, he still got incredibly sad while staring down on these lines. There was so much he wanted to say to Keith but so little he actually could. Even just the imagination of walking up to him, telling him that he'd been in love with him for years seemed completely ridiculous. Keith might probably just stare at him, laugh, and ask what he had taken or how much he had drunk. Let alone the thought of admitting to Keith that he wanted to be with him romantically, that he wanted to hold him and kiss him and make love to him. It seemed beyond ludicrous. 

Sometimes he wondered, whether Keith knew, whether he'd noticed, or figured it out all along, but never chose to say anything either. Because what should he have said? It definitely wasn't like Keith to talk about stuff like that, maybe because he didn't know how to, or because he thought it wouldn't comply with his tough guy image. Or maybe he was simply oblivious to everything, didn't realise anymore through his drug haze. When Mick gazed at him for longer, or sat closer to him than was necessary, when he hugged him tighter and more intimately than appropriate, or these couple of times when he'd snuck small kisses to his cheek. This was everything Mick would allow himself to have, all he could get, but he figured it was alright. At least like this, he could keep Keith as his friend, without risking to lose him or destroying the band. 

Still, he wished nothing more than for things to be different, but he wasn't a dreamer. He knew how things were and how they never could be. So there was nothing left for him but to suck it all up once again. Drown out all his sentiments, push all the longing back down, forget about all the hopeful what-ifs. He'd managed to get along and pull himself together dozens of times before. This time would be no different. He knew how to deal with this, even if it meant being miserable every now and again. But that was a low price to pay compared to the alternative of risking it all. 

"No, I won't miss you anymore…", he mumbled to himself, his mind dull from exhaustion and his eyes blurry from lack of sleep as he was lying on his stomach, his notebook in front of him. "I won't miss you", he repeated as if to persuade himself, while his head was dropping down onto his outstretched arm. He sighed heavily, his grave eyelids sinking down over tired eyes, feeling completely drained. Again he sighed, nuzzling his face against his own arm as if this would make his sleeping position any more comfortable. 'I miss you, baby…', was his last thought on his mind, before he finally was overwhelmed by fatigue.

**Author's Note:**

> Some background info:
> 
> The Stones weren't actually on tour in the US in 1977 right after Keith was busted, they only played two shows at the El Mocambo club in Toronto that year
> 
> But they had to play some shows without him during their 1978 US tour due to his ongoing drug trial
> 
> Keith and Ronnie actually were caught with drugs in their car in 1975 but thanks to their lawyer could talk themselves out of it and said they weren't aware of the drugs or something like that and then were set free (it's in Keith's book)
> 
> Mick said in an interview (from 2011 that's a bonus on the Some Girls Live in Texas CD/DVD pack) that he came up with Miss You while jamming with Billy Preston and made up the story in the lyrics while Keith was in jail as they actually should play shows in Toronto and then wrote the song with Billy Preston because Keith wasn't there 
> 
> Mick actually blamed Anita for Keith's drug problems, as I read in an article (https://nationalpost.com/news/world/evil-glamour-how-anita-pallenberg-nearly-broke-up-the-rolling-stones-during-ill-fated-toronto-trip/amp) while researching the timeline


End file.
